Harry Potter and a Certain Fated Kaleidoscope
by Transcendent Equinox
Summary: Harry Potter gets the Sharingan at a young age, goes through a genius edgelord phase, then chills out and learns to have fun. The Wizarding World is going to be super confused when he shows up at Hogwarts. No decided pairing. AU-Massive Crossover. Sharingan!Super!Harry. Also Stoner!Harry.
1. Chapter 1

**It's been a while. My old laptop died, and its taken a while for me to get my hands on a new one. I'm also married, with a kid, have a full time job, and an addiction to video games. My time is all but gone, but I do still enjoy fanfiction...**

**Hopefully this'll be different enough to keep your attention. I dunno, I write mostly to entertain myself, and publish just in the hopes that it keeps you lot entertained too. I want to write something that's fast-paced and easy to follow, but doesn't hold your hand. Might fail at it, might not. Worth a shot, eh?**

**Disclaimer: Any material that could potentially be considered infringement of copyrights and trademarks should be considered the property of their respective creators or owners. You are reading this of your own freewill, so please refrain from doing so if you don't like graphic violence, fluff montages, explicit sexuality, cliches and tropes, dumb dad jokes, vulgar language, American Wordings, easter eggs, massive crossovers, polyamorous relationships, or usage of drugs.**

**A/N: In this story, first year students at Hogwarts are the same age as freshmen in high school. I have also decided to update the world timeline of Harry Potter by thirty years, bringing it into the 'present' day; I'm going to play fast and loose with the actual year though.**

* * *

**Act One: Awakening**  
**Recommended Music: Old Friends by Darren Korb**

* * *

It all started when he was but five years old, in a moment he would never, could never, forget.

His Uncle Vernon's hand was coming at him again, and he knew it would _hurt _when it landed on his face.

The world slowed to a crawl.  
Cobwebs cleared from his mind.  
He could truly see and think for the first time...

Every experience prior to this point had been... sub-par.  
Suddenly, he could _see_ everything.

Inaudible, ghost-like whispers crawled up his spine until one voice grew far louder than the others. Unbidden, it's voice flowed from his throat and mouth in one alien, powerful word.

"Sharingan."

He dodged the meaty fist, watching as it crashed into the wall next to him. Time snapped back forward, and he lost that brief sense of absolute clarity. Vernon rounded on him again, a rictus of confused, quivering fury filling Harry's vision. Another blow came Harry's way, this one far wilder than the last-it was fueled by fear.

"Sharingan."

And he escaped pain yet again, this time keeping that clarity for a few milliseconds longer. He saw the widening of his so-called family's eyes in pure terror. He saw his reflection in their eyes, in between the crawling blink of their eyes. His eyes were red, like fire and blood. The realization emptied him, just as time crashed back into him, and his eyes reverted to green.

It all faded to black around him, and he soon knew no more.

* * *

He awoke in his cupboard, though something was different.

He had power now. He could feel it in his eyes, a yearning to be trained.

So he trained in the dark, using this newfound power as much as he could. As soon as it stuttered off, he would reactivate his gift. In time, he grew to understand this power he wielded. Upon saying, "Sharingan," he could ascend into a rosy world where everything made sense, where he had true power to enact change.

* * *

Harry Potter, at six years old, no longer needed glasses.

His eyesight, unaugmented by his concentrated effort, was perfectly normal. This abnormal turn of events drove his guardians batty, though they dared not make a scene of it; drawing attention to this phenomenon could prove disastrous to their reputations, after all...

* * *

"Sharingan." His irises became a rosy molten red. His pupils shrunk to a pinprick.

A single comma-like mark appeared in his right eye, lazily orbiting his changed pupils. He somehow knew from the very core of his being, in much the same way he'd been supplied with the name of his power, that this mark was a 'tomoe.'

The passage of time halved. The smallest details effortlessly jumped out to him. His memory became absolute. His eyes no longer needed to focus to see-everything in his field of view was equally visible and distinguished to him.

* * *

In time, his family stopped trying to harm him. In time, they stopped trying to tell him what to do, and how to do it. And in time, they decided it was best for him to be himself, by himself. All alone.

Eventually, a seven year-old Harry forcefully took his cousin's second bedroom, daring any in the house to oppose him. Neither Vernon or Petunia did so, and Dudley gave up his screeching in the face of his parents' impotent fear. They would do naught to the boy they feared was a demon, and they advised Dudley to do the same.

And to this, Harry smiled, for the first time in years.

* * *

Mind growling with a hunger for knowledge, eyes stinging for a challenge, Harry Potter sat in the public library. At nine years old, after several years of continuous training, he could keep his Sharingan active for hours at a time.

Using sunglasses, he hid the truth from any interested observers. Everyone assumed he was casually flipping through his literature, not even bothering to read what was in front of him.

If only they knew...

* * *

After weeks, he grew bored of written media, and wary from the looks he was receiving from the librarians.

One of the public computers was open... and all he wanted was to take a quick look at the internet.

After all, the general consensus appeared to be that the internet was an information superhighway, and one of the greatest inventions of the modern era...

* * *

"Buy me a computer that can connect to the internet, Uncle, and I will stay out of your hair for the rest of your life."

"You already stick to yourself, boy. Why should I spend that kind of money on you?"

Harry's eyes flashed red. "I could always stop sticking to myself." In that moment, the single tomoe of his right eye split into two. "Maybe I could let it be known that I slept in a cupboard under the stairs until I was seven years old..." And then the orbit of thw two tomoe around his pupil suddenly accelerated a dizzying degree. "You wouldn't want that, would you?" He felt a pulse of intent well up inside him, before it somehow broadcast from him io his Uncle.

Vernon eyed his nephew blankly, before stiffly nodding. "I suppose a cheap laptop wouldn't hurt..."

And so Harry learned how to compel and mesmerize those who met his gaze. His Sharingan had evolved and grown in power. Now he could hypnotize and mesmerize the people around him.

* * *

"Be nicer to me, Dudley."

"... Sure."

"... Also, you should try a bit harder in school. And work on your hygiene."

"... Damn dude, that kinda hurt my feelings. But yeah, makes sense."

...

"Leave me alone," he commanded, his eyes radiating his need for equality. "Provide me with food, clothes, and shelter, and allow me to do whatever I want; but otherwise, ignore my existence."

They balked at this compulsion, its very nature so diametrically opposed to their materialistic selves that they couldn't accept it even with magical aid. Then he repeated the command, fueled with far more anger and power. And they submitted to his desire.

He reapplied that command every few hours, at first. Then he only needed to do it once a day. As time went on, the compulsion only needed to be refreshed every other day, then every few days, then once a week, once a month, and so on and so forth, until eventually he no longer had to.

* * *

Harry Potter was homeschooled, while his cousin wasn't. After being offered the chance to skip a grade, then another, and another, within less than a week, Petunia and Vernon thought it would be best to let him stay at home, learning from the internet.

Harry didn't mind this development, since he was so far beyond public school anyway at that point.

He was a genius, plain and simple. Each individual facet of his Sharingan could make him superhumanly observant and intelligent, but when taken as an ensemble... when combined with his natural propensity for curiosity, it all came together into a single, irrefutable fact: Harry was an intellectual force to be reckoned with.

However, there were problems with this.

For an almost worryingly long stretch of time, Harry only left his room for meals or to use the restroom. All the rest of his time was spent learning untold amounts of things from the internet, copying any and all manual skills just by watching someone perform them, and his vast knowledge base allowed him to learn ever more complicated abstract concepts.

* * *

Then one day, he stayed in the living room, no longer staying cooped up in his room. His green eyes sparkled with a sense of confidence and ease that would never have attributed to him before his period of pseudo-asceticism.

When Dudley asked him what was different about that day, and why he was behaving the way he was... Harry smiled a soft, content smile.

"I'm done."

They were all confused by this response. "You're done?" asked Dudley, a soft tilt to his head as he stared at his reviled cousin. "What d'you mean?" It took a lot of mental effort for him not to add 'freak,' to the end of his question, but Harry's mental conditioning was certainly having an effect..

"I've finished learning. All that studying and research... I'm happy with what I now know. I might go exploring cyberspace again at some point, but for now... I'm content to take a step back and reevaluate."

This was met with a stunned silence, only broken after a few beats by Vernon. "So..." began Vernon, unsure of what to say to _that,_ "What're you, ah, going to be doing, er, from now on?" The man was nervous with how much free time Harry would have now, after all.

Harry's smile grew a tad more lively. "Now... I think I'd like to begin, for lack of a better word... experimentation."

* * *

Harry had memorized, analyzed, and cross-referenced almost everything worth knowing on the internet, which housed pretty much everything mankind had learned in all of recorded history. However, there were limits to what he could truly understand from the comfort of his office chair, and the safety of his screen.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, deciding to speak his thought process aloud, on the off chance that it might give him an epiphany.

"It's like this: imagine you could fight like Bruce Lee, Mike Tyson, or Mohammed Ali. You can switch from one style to the next, and match each of those fighters exactly, but you can't... _combine_ everything together neatly. A lot of the philosophies endemic to one style are incompatible with the those of the others. I want to be all three of those fighters at the _exact_ same time. But I can't. It just doesn't... _click_."

He sat there for a few more moments in silence, before realizing that he needed to relax a bit, and jumpstart his imagination. And due to his lurking about the internet, Harry had a pretty good idea of what could help. "I gotta smoke some weed."

* * *

A twelve year-old Harry was eyeing the joint in his cousin's room warily.

A soft breath escaped him. "I know there's a stigma surrounding illicit drugs, and I know how they can potentially impact a person's physical and mental development, but..." It was an entirely different question altogether to experience it for himself, firsthand.

"You don't have to do this if you-"

"Ah, but that's the whole point of this, isn't it?" Harry oh-so-cleverly pointed out. "My experimental phase? Still, I am a bit apprehensive about all this, despite everything else..." What if it made him paranoid? What if it made him stupid? What if-

He got a pointed look from Dudley. "We're friends now, man. You don't have to prove anything to me, ya know, if that's what this is all about."

Harry couldn't help but scoff at that.

"Well, okay. Last chance. You sure about this?" Dudley asked, an eyebrow raised. Harry had, after all, been totally in control of himself for the past several years. "You've never been the type to simply let go..."

"If I don't try this now, I'll probably never would drudge up the nerve to do it again."

Dudley took a puff, a soft cough escaping him after he let it go.

"Are you really, really sure? Because there's a pretty good chance that you'll end up really, really liking this, and I dunno if I can afford to share that often-" but Dudley trailed off when Harry narrowed his eyes.

Harry let out a slow, slightly unsteady breath, but his eyes were determined. "Yes, I'm sure." He turned the pipe over in his hands a few times, before nodding with a sense of finality. "I think I need to experience an altered mental state. Maybe it'll help me grow as a person, or maybe nothing'll come of this, but..." he trailed off, before shrugging, and snatching the joint.

Bringing it up to his mouth, his cousin's lighter already flickering to life...

* * *

About twenty minutes later, his eyes a bleary, blurry red.

"Mmm. I need to eeaatt," he groaned, making his way downstairs to the kitchen, Dudley not far behind him. That night, he would end up eating half a pound of leftover lasagna, fifty pizza rolls, an entire pack of oreos, a bag of cheetos, a pint of cookie dough ice cream, two microwavable packs of mac n' cheese, and several packs of gummy bears. And he probably drank a gallon of water, at least. He also blasted some indie rock while watching adult cartoons.

He was finally relaxed for the first time in years. And as it turned out, altering his mental state truly did help his powers grow even stronger...

* * *

It turned out that Harry did, indeed, end up looking that feeling...

* * *

Mellowing out a bit, Harry started venturing out of the house again, for the first time in... ever? Yeah, probably ever.

There was a lot of weird stuff going on in the world, stuff that the average person just didn't even notice: a renegade bus that _pushed_ other things out of its way as it zigzagged about the roadways of London, the occasional office building or houses that none of his family members could even _percieve_, and... a shimmering barrier that surrounded Number 4, Privet Drive, and was connected by a tether to Harry himself.

It was a kind of aura, of some sort, that seemed to be coming from all living things, and was being redirected into certain objects or places, or even people. Rather than investigate this, Harry procrastinated with his new favorite hobby...

* * *

Petunia and Vernon seemed to know what it was that he was seeing, but they were not inclined to tell him just yet. That was fine, he decided, for the time being: there would be plenty of time for him to find out the answers behind the mysterious lights later...

* * *

"I have no clue what the Hell I'm doing," Harry mumbled to himself, staring intently at the rock in his hand.

Or rather, the rock that was floating above his hand.

If he messed around with his own aura, he could pull it out of his body and put it in certain objects, causing all sorts of wacky things to occur: sticking them to walls, causing them to float, changing his hair color, lighting his trashcan on fire, etc.

And when he pushed his ether into the rock in his hand, he could move it with his mind. "This is fucking telekinesis," he murmured to himself in awe.

* * *

Several months later, a fourteen year-old Harry was sitting lazily in his armchair, watching some random anime on his computer for background noise while simultaneously levitating two rocks in a lazy orbit around his head.

There was a tentative knock at his door. He paused the video, before swiveling to the door.

Dudley would've just barged in, and Vernon would just project his voice through the door. Must've been Petunia then.

"Yeah!?" he shouted, slightly in exasperation and curiosity, but mostly in annoyance at being interrupted.

"May I come in?" came his Aunt's tentative voice.

He rolled his eyes and _flexed_ his ether, causing the door to swing open. "Whatcha want?"

She stared at the door for a moment, as if terrified that he'd telekinetically slam it in her face before turning to him. "You got some mail today," she murmured, her fingers trailing up and down an odd envelope of parchment.

"'Kay. Just lay it on my desk and I'll read it... whenever," he said, before turning back to his laptop.

"No, you don't understand. This... is a bit more important than you realize." That got his attention. He revolved his chair back around and _looked_ at her. She knew that, in the moment he flashed those crimson eyes of his, he saw exactly just how uncomfortable (i.e. completely terrified) she was of having this conversation with him. And she knew that he could infer the origins of her feelings with frightening accuracy in almost the same amount of time.

He also noticed, finally, that there was a pile of mail all about Petunia, reaching up to her knees. And every single one of them was exactly the same: addressed to one _Mr. Harry Potter_, followed by a degree of specificity towards his residence that bordered on the disturbing. And they were all saturated in ether.

He took a moment to _think_, before gesturing to his bed. She sat on it, still playing nervously with his letter. He reached his hand out, silently, and she gave it to him while chewing on her lip.

_"This will explain everything we haven't yet told you,"_ was what her body language and micro-expressions were telling him.

His eyes flashed at it for a millisecond, and he frowned. "It's glowing." The statement held a question in it, one that Petunia refused to meet his eyes and answer. Harry narrowed his eyes and morphed them into Sharingan with a mere thought. "You know what my Eyes can see. You know what all of this means, even though you can't see it yourself. What is _this_, and why have you waited so long to tell me?"

She let out a shuddering breath, her gaze still on the floor. "I... you can see _magic_, Harry. You're a wizard, just like your parents, my sister and brother-in-law." Harry frowned at her, his Eyes flashing again though he made no comment. "And wizards... their society is hidden from outsiders. We didn't tell you because..." but she trailed off, her eyes pleading as she stared at her nephew.

The words that came out of her mouth didn't surprise him though. Actually, if anything, they seemed to be accepted at face value, and taken in the manner of somebody having their suspicions confirmed. Still, she felt like this long overdue revelation about the origin of his powers should have had far greater impact on him.

"So that's what it is, what it's been this whole time?" he mused, absentmindedly rubbing his chin as he appraised the envelope again with a more appreciating gaze. "Makes sense. The only thing I don't get though," he started, his eyes glittering with secret amusement which made her suspect he was merely humoring her expectations of how this conversation should go for the sake of dramatics, "-is why didn't you tell me I was a wizard? Obviously I'm not _normal_..."

She started wringing her hands. "I wasn't sure... if that's what you were. I thought that maybe there was a chance that you... were like me. Somebody that they wouldn't accept. Somebody who didn't fit in with their idea of how a person should be. I thought that you didn't have enough magic for them to want you, or that maybe... oh well, it doesn't matter."

"Come again?"

"Your mother, Harry... She got her letter in the mail when she was eleven, but there was something special about her even before then: she could force flowers to bloom with just a breath from her lungs, or launch herself from the swingset dozens of meters in a single bound. She had magical powers. She was born with magic. And I... wasn't." The bitter tears started falling harder now, as she relived her bitter past.

They sat in silence together, Harry staring blankly at her..

"She left our world behind. She went off to that school, made friends, trained her powers, and fell in love with that detestable James Potter. Her ties to our normal world dwindled, and her ties to that magical world... multiplied." Her frown deepened for a moment, before she continued, "Eventually, she severed contact with us altogether, after our parents died and I... was glad to be rid of her. That _freak_. I-"

Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he ignored her hate-filled rant. "So you thought I would be a reject like you? That I wasn't magical enough for this other world?" She nodded primly at that, her lip curling into a deep grimace of hatred. "But it turns out that they just changed the starting age for going to magic school, and obviously _you_ weren't told of this because you weren't a part of their society... though it makes sense for them to let people grow up at least a little bit before they're taught how to warp reality."

She snarled once before abruptly standing up and walking to the entryway to his bedroom, "I'll go back to pretending you don't exist soon enough, child. I hope that world sucks you in and swallows you up just like my sister. I hope that one day, when you leave for that school, you'll never come back."

His aunt stared at him with haunted, sadistic eyes, before finally leaving the room.

"Holy fuck she was pissed."

The moment was somewhat ruined by the constant fluttery-crunch of her feet exploring a path through the deluge of mail.

Harry groaned loudly at the mess, before firing off, "Why are there so many letters? Would a single letter not have sufficed? D'you think they're pranking us?!"

After chuckling softly at the noises of his aunt's struggle, Harry turned his attention to the letter, and perused it again at a much more leisurely pace, without his Sharingan.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Robes? An owl or a toad or a rat? A magic fucking wand? Where am I gonna bloody get all this!?"

Then an enormous thumping of the front door reverberated through the house. "You've got a visitor, Harry," came Petunia's voice, carrying far more goodwill to it than she normally would if someone banged on their door like that. She really was in a better mood, knowing that soon he would be out of her hair for a majority of the year.

"... And why, oh why," Harry continued his self-directed rant, "-do I get the feeling that this visitor will have an explanation for all these damned letters?"

* * *

**A/N: So, I know, it's a new story altogether. Please don't kill meeee.**

**This story has been bouncing around in my head for a loooong time. It's majorly inspired by other fanfics, such as The Wizard of the Kaleidoscope, Harry Potter and the Blazing Goblet, A Cadmean Victory, Partially Kissed Hero, His Angel, Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality, The Lie I've Lived, Lightning Dragon's Roar, The Mind Arts, and Child of the Storm. There are others, but those are my inspirations from this fandom's fanfiction. Really, just look through my profile's favorites list and you'll get a pretty good idea of what I like.**

**If you have any comments, questions, or concerns you can leave a review or PM me. Also, if you would kindly review, favorite, follow, and/or share the story with communities, I would greatly appreciate it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Act One: Hogwarts Prep**

* * *

"Hello, Mrs. Dursley I presume?" When he didn't get much of a reply, he continued obsequiously, "My name is Rubeus Hagrid, and I'm the Keeper of Keys and the Grounds of Hogwarts. I'm here to take little Harry to Diagon Alley for his wand and robes 'n the like. Does he know he's a wizard yet? Eh, anyway, should be just a few hours."

Everyone in the house was staring at the intimidating figure (who'd barged in the moment the door was answered) as if he'd grown a second head.

"Ah, the Dursley family lives at Number Four, Privet Drive," said Mrs. Polkiss, a confused lilt to her voice. "What's Hogwarts? Harry's a wizard?"

"... I've made a terrible mistake."

* * *

Two hours later, after Hagrid explained his predicament to Dumbledore, and an Obliviation Squad, he finally stood outside of Number 4, Privet Drive. "Second time's the charm, eh?" he said to himself, before knocking loudly on the front door.

It was answered by exactly who he'd originally meant to see. "'Ello, Harry. 'Member me?"

The boy blinked slowly at the gargantuan man, before slowly shaking his head. "Can't say that I do."

They stood there for about five whole seconds, awkwardly staring at each other, before Hagrid said, "Er, d'you mind if ah come in?"

Harry shrugged noncommittally. "C'mon in then, I guess."

And so Harry directed the big man to sit in the living room, which was currently suffering a deluge of Hogwarts letters zooming out of the fireplace. "I hope you don't mind the mess," Harry remarked, waving at the swarm, as he sat down in the rocking chair.

Hagrid scratched the back of his head sheepishly, before explaining, "Sorry, Harry. We got word that yer hadn't read yer Hogwarts letter yet... Mighta gone a bit o'erboard in trying to catch yer attention." He opted to sit on the floor, and Harry could've sworn the couch let out a sigh of relief at being spared from the giant man's butt.

That got a sagely nod from the fourteen year-old. "So, whatcha wanna talk about?" Harry asked.

As it happened, Hagrid had an awful lot to tell him.

They talked about Harry being a wizard, how he already knew this fact because Petunia had told him that fact only ten minutes earlier, and that he pieced together that the dudes in wacky robes were wizards controlling his neighbors' memories. They talked about why magic was hidden, how 'muggles' disliked that which was alien and other, then talked about how Hogwarts was a good school to learn from, and that he'd be able to get all his supplies from Diagon Alley. Hagrid was also nice enough to explain to Harry how to get to platform nine and three quarters, and consequently the Hogwarts express.

Harry had tried to talk to the man about the ethics of removing memories from people, what with memories being a fundamental aspect of what makes a person truly human, but quickly realized the man was a bit too simple to _really_ talk with about that. After their conversation began winding down, Hagrid wished Harry an early birthday, mentioned that he knew Harry's parents, and explained how and why Harry was famous in the Wizarding World: simultaneously surviving the unblockable, unsurvivable Killing Curse _AND_ vanquishing the Dark Lord Voldemort as a baby.

"Ah. Right. Well, I s'pose I can be off now then, if ya like?" asked Hagrid, standing up from his seat in a surprisingly fluid motion, before starting to shuffle awkwardly towards the front door. At that moment, Harry caught a glimpse of a newspaper on the inside of Hagrid's jacket. And weirdly enough, it had a moving picture on the front of it, though it was too rolled up for him to get a good idea of what it was about.

"Yeah, sure," said Harry, a bit distantly, his Eyes drinking in the newspaper within a few seconds. "Sorry, its just a lot to take in all at once, ya know? Thanks for the heads up about, well, all of this, really. Guess I'd like to go shopping kinda soon. D'you mind telling me where I could get a newspaper like that?" he asked, pointing at the object of his attention.

"Wha'? Oh, that. Ya gotta have a' owl to get the news delivered to you. But, ah, in the meantime you c'n just borrow mine," answered Hagrid, a happy gleam in his eyes as he handed it over. "I betcha you'll be in Ravenclaw, wantin' to read as much as you do. Tell yer what: if ya wait a few days, I should be able to get another paper for ya."

Harry nodded at that, before leading the man to the front door, and exchanging goodbyes with him.

Suddenly moving with inhuman speed, Harry bounded up to his room and closed the door behind him, so he could read the newspaper in peace.

It had a _moving_ picture of an enormous family of redheads, just under the headline: Pro-Muggleborn Legislation Championed By Arthur Weasley To Be Signed Into Law! Harry's eyes quickly morphed red, his three tomoe in the right Eye and two in the left were pulsing with pleasure at the chance to acquire more information about the world that he would soon be a part of, and he devoured the news in seconds.

"... I gotta smoke after all that."

* * *

One morning, after Harry had spent a whole night playing Gears of Halo Theft Auto 7: Modern Warfare 3 for long enough that birds were starting to chirp outside, there was a gentle tapping at his window. Harry normally wouldn't have heard such a soft sound through his gaming headset, but he'd taken them off to let his ears 'breathe' for lack of a better word.

Harry turned his very red eyes away from the screen, rubbed them a bit, and focused on his window.

A beautiful snowy owl was staring at him with intense amber eyes, and she had a letter attached to her left talon. He cautiously raised the window, allowing the bird entry into his house, whereupon she stood on his desk with the letter outstretched. He accepted the envelope, noting that it was made of parchment of all things, and quickly read the letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy Birthday. It might seem a little weird, but I thought I'd get you a birthday present. Meet me next Tuesday at the Leaky Cauldron around noon, and I'll show you the best places to go in Diagon Alley._

_Sincerely,_

_Hagrid_

_P.S. The Owl is your birthday present. Name her well._

Harry turned away from the letter (which he'd scanned in less than half a second), and regarded the bird that was still staring at him.

"Ah, I guess it is my birthday. Man, time flies during the summer. So, anyway, you're mine then, eh? Pretty cool, pretty cool... But, uh, what do you eat? Do you need a cage or something? You want any toys? Are you by any chance a talking owl?" Man he was still a bit blazed, but he really felt like he was nailing this whole owning-a-pet thing.

She hooted at him, and he got the impression she was mocking him.

* * *

Harry went to Gringotts with Hagrid, was intrigued by the grubby package the giant man retrieved from a separate vault, got some gold out of his family vault, then went on a shopping spree for all his school supplies. Since the author of this story has no intent to rehash that Station of Fanon, as it were, you lucky readers get the highlight reel:

It took Harry forever to get his Holly and Phoenix feather wand, that's a brother wand to Voldemort's, Ollivander creeped him out, and he accidentally convinced Neville and Augusta Longbottom to get that boy a brand new wand. He got a bunch of pet supplies for his owl who he named Hedwig, a bunch of potion supplies and ready-made potions, and clothes that would by both comfy and stylish (meeting Malfoy in the process and getting a bad first impression). He chilled in the bookshop for almost a full hour, perusing every book while wearing his sunglasses; this suspicious behavior led to the shopowner checking his sunglasses for any form of enchantment (of which it had none), before glaring at Harry as he continued looking through everything the man had.

He did NOT get a magical trunk, however. It just felt too extravagant, and honestly seemed a bit superfluous.

Before Harry left the Alley, he purchased a subscription to the Daily Prophet, after reading about some scary guy named Sirius Black who escaped from Azkaban, the Wizarding Prison.

"So this guy betrayed my parents to Voldemort? 'Kay. Guess I'll kill him if we ever cross paths."

* * *

Before long, it was September first, and Harry was _staring_ at the pillar separating platforms nine and ten. He'd just seen the abovementioned Weasley family pour through the disguised portal, right before he reached it. But it was completely solid for him.

Luckily, he'd had his Sharingan active. He saw how the barrier behaved for the other wizards, and how it changed when he approached it, and why it stopped working: some invisible creature appeared, cast a spell on it, then vanished just as quickly. He wasn't sure yet how he'd be able to stop such a creature, or reverse what it'd done, but at the very least he knew what he'd seen.

He stood there, staring at the pillar for over five minutes, trying to will the magic to revert to its previous structure, when his impotent focus was broken by new arrivals.

"Wotcher. You trying to get on the Express?" asked a young woman with a soft, knowing, and warm smile playing about her face.

"Ah, yeah. How'd you know?"

She pointedly looked at his trolley laden down with a bulging trunk and caged owl with one of her eyebrows raised.

"Fair point," he conceded with a half-smile. "I think the portal's a bit broken at the moment though, in my defense."

She frowned at that, her eyes affixed on the object of his prior concentration. Walking up to it, she abruptly rapped her knuckles on the brickwork. "Gimme a sec," she muttered, as she surreptitiously pulled her wand out of her purse. Harry's eyebrows raised at how brazen she was being, to which she answered his unasked question, "Yes, normally I wouldn't use magic out in public so... conspicuously, but there's a permanent muggle-repelling charm bound to this pillar; nobody will even notice us once we're within eight feet of it, which we now are."

"Oh okay. And you're allowed to use magic outside of school because...?"

"I'm well old enough to use magic outside of school," she answered, eyes unfocused as she waved her wand hither and thither about the malfunctioning portal. Harry watched transfixed with his Sharingan hidden behind his sunglasses as he copied the abstract spellwork she was working. "You can use magic out of Hogwarts once you're either seventeen years old, or you pass your OWL examinations. When you're a fourth year, a senior, you should be old enough to use it out in the real world one way or another. I'm a seventh year, actually, a master's student."

It should be noted that Hogwarts functioned as a high school, college, and university all at once: first through fourth years counted as being freshmen, sophomores, juniors, and seniors; fifth years were associates, sixth years were bachelors, and seventh years are masters.

"Cool. Though you don't look that much older than me."

She smirked, before rapidly changing before his eyes into a wrinkly old woman, which Harry's eyes memorized, but categorized the phenomenon as the first 'un-copiable' ability he'd come across. "How 'bout now?"

"Er, now you look a bit too old to be a master's student."

The woman snorted before returning to her original form, and simultaneously breaking the jinx on the portal. "It was nice meetin' ya, kiddo," she said, as she dragged him and his trolley through the barrier, noting how he didn't protest being called a 'kiddo.' "Welcome, to Platform Nine and Three Quarters."

The Hogwarts Express was an impressive sight, a gleaming crimson behemoth of steel, partially hidden via steam and crowds. It was an awe inspiring sight, though in many ways entirely superfluous. Wizards could portkey, floo, apparate, fly, or ride the Knight Bus to get to Hogwarts far faster than taking a train; Hell, many purebloods scoffed at the idea of riding a train in the first place, it being a form of muggle transportation that was only invented a bit before the birth of Albus Dumbledore himself.

And yet, it was the most convenient way of getting muggleborn and muggle-raised students to the castle, and mandatory as of Dumbledore's promotion to Headmaster of the school, the first of many such Educational Decrees that the powerful wizard enacted over his long tenure.

"It was nice meetin' you too," Harry said, after a few seconds of stunned silence as he took in all the hustle and bustle.

"The name's Tonks, by the way. I'm the Head Girl, if you need anything else."

"Just Tonks?"  
"Just Tonks."

"Well, my name's Harry."

"Just Harry?"  
"Just Harry."

"Well, Just Harry, you'd best get yourself a seat ASAP; or all the best ones'll be taken." He nodded at that, waved goodbye at her with a half-smile still on his face, before embarking off on a quest to find a good seat.

In that moment, Tonks decided that Just Harry was a pretty cool kid, and a lot less annoying than most freshmen she'd come across in her time at Hogwarts. "I hope the other freshmen don't infect him with Annoying," she muttered softly to herself.

* * *

Before long, Harry found himself in a nice compartment of his own. He'd managed to get his trunk stored away just fine on his own, and was now sitting back, relaxing, and people-watching with his sunglasses on. He memorized faces, analyzed gaits, and noticed all sorts of minor details about his fellow classmates and their parents that not many other people would be able to notice.

A girl with red hair in his age group had an interesting light pattern of green with white-gold veins. She moved with far more grace than most of the other people around her. Something told him she wasn't completely human.

Neville Longbottom, the boy he had a small chat with just outside Ollivander's, had an _enormous_ aura of red and gold that was compressed deep down under a far less interesting grey exterior. There was more to the boy than Harry immediately thought.

There was a blonde girl with a deep green aura that was nearly four times larger than everyone else in their age group. Her expression, posture, and gait seemed far colder than what one would expect in a freshman.

...

As time went on, and more and more students were getting on the train, he started getting a bit fidgetty. He expected somebody to have wanted to sit in his compartment with him, yet none had done so. He supposed it made sense: he had gotten on as far back as he could go.

Then the train lurched forward, and began picking up speed. Soon enough, they were rushing through the English countryside, having long since left London behind. He idly noted that their surroundings were whipping past at an insane rate; he guessed that the train was moving at almost three hundred miles per hour; the should be getting to the Scottish castle much earlier than he'd previously anticipated.

With that thought in mind, he promptly got dressed into his school robes, before laying back on his bench and taking out his favorite pipe for a quick smoke, then perhaps a nap...

* * *

"It isn't here, Master," he whispered, a deep pit of despair opening up in his stomach.

_You failed me... _The voice reverberated from within his own head, a cold and harsh whisper, crackling with deep, calculating rage. This voice was a rusty dagger being sharpened on an oiled whetstone, a piano wire plucking a discordant melody as it cut into a virgin sacrifice's throat.

"It was here, Master. I know this to be true... the old man must have retrieved it-"

_Of course he did, imbecile. Leave this place before we are caught. You will suffer for this later..._

* * *

Harry was shaken awake, rather rudely, by a girl about his age. He took in her bushy brown hair, bright hazel eyes, surprisingly clear complexion, slightly large front teeth, and the fact that she was already wearing her school robes all instantly. Her aura was a warm brown, almost matching her eyes, but the pattern wasn't miasmatic shapes like everyone else.

Her aura was made up of numbers.

"What. The. Fuck."

"Beg your pardon? You need to wake up! How could you sleep through the dementors, anyway? Regardless, we'll be there in ten minutes! And also, have you seen a toad? Neville's lost one-" He gently held up a single finger, wordlessly asking for a moment, but the girl plowed on, "-its name is Trevor and he's very-" He placed his index finger on her lips and instantly shushed her. She instantly went bright red at this, but at the very least stopped talking.

"No, I haven't. Thanks for waking me up though; I really do appreciate it." He stretched his back like a cat, popping several of his vertebrae in the process, before lounging back and giving off a large yawn. "Weird goddamn nightmare, that was," he muttered.

"That's probably due to the dementors," she said, looking sympathetic now that she'd gotten over his invasion of her personal space. "Those creatures were just _awful_. I know that they're here to keep Sirius Black away from Harry Potter, but O just-"

Harry shushed her again, before turning groaning and drinking a bit of water from his bottle. "Holy fuck that's cold," he muttered, though his tone was probably a bit too positive for Hermione's liking.

It was only then that he noticed the boy who was standing in the doorway to the compartment, looking just as embarrassed by Harry's actions as the girl was. "Sorry for shushing you like that, by the way. I just needed a bit to get my bearings back. So I'm guessing he's this Neville guy who's lost his pet?" he said, jabbing his thumb in the entryway's direction.

The girl nodded dumbly at that.

"Lucky I've already met him, and decided I liked him, otherwise I'd have turned you lot into toads by now. You two tried asking an older student to summon Truman?"

"It's Trevor," said Neville, though the correction had no heat to it. "We did, and none of them could get it to work... Oh Gods, what if he's dead?"

Harry blinked slowly at the other boy's melodramatics. "Well buddy, I hate to tell you this, but... ah, never mind. Your pet's probably... fine..."

They both stared at him, one in horror and the other in indignation, before he shrugged. "I hope your frog is okay, but we _are_ almost to Hogwarts. I bet there's a lost-and-found or something along those lines. We can ask whoever chaperones our trip up to the Castle."

"Frogs and toads aren't the same-"

And it was at that moment that he spied, with his little eye, someone he knew, who'd know the answer. "Actually," he began, conveniently overlooking the fact that he cut off Hermione's diatribe about amphibians. Cupping his hand over his mouth, Harry out, "Yo Tonks, we gotta question for ya!" Though his voice hadn't changed much in volume, he still managed to get the Head Girl's attention, while she was in the middle of letting everyone know that they were close to getting to Hogwarts.

"Yeah, those were dementors," she said, sticking her head around the corner. "And no, they didn't catch Sirius Black. Also, why're you still wearing sunglasses? The windows are tinted, and there's a curtain to block out the light."

"I'm a slave to my fashion sense," he responded dryly, before returning his attention to the original reason he called her over. "This dude's lost his pet frog. Is there anything like a lost-and-found on this train?"

She blinked slowly at that, noting how unaffected he was by the near proximity of soul-sucking fiends who radiated coldness, sadness, and decay. She pursed her lips and tapped her chin. "Well that's new. Eh, gotta be a toad to be allowed in school, first off. But, hmm. Ya know, I could try summoning the little guy for you."

"Tried that already," said Neville glumly.

"Can't hurt to try again, can it?" said Harry, in a somewhat hollow attempt at instilling hope in the other, terrifyingly powerful but oblivious to said power, boy. Neville nodded thoughtfully at that.

"His name is Neville and he's actually a toad," said Neville, eyeing the older girl nervously.

"I thought your name was Neville, and the toad's name was Trevor?" said Harry, tilting his head to the side.

"Right. I've just got a lot on my mind at the moment," he mumbled.

Tonks tuned them out, and performed the spell. "Accio Trevor," she incanted. And in that moment, because his eyes were active, Harry learned how to summon things. He would also never forget the image of a toad slamming into the metamorph's cleavage.

Before long, they disembarked the train, hopped on a bunch of self-propelling boats to cross a black lake, and got their first real look at their magical boarding school.

An imposing gothic castle with dark stained glass windows stood on the crest of a massive hill, illuminated by witchlight lanterns. Harry decided then and there that he would want that image burned into his mind forever, so he _watched_ as the castle crept closer and closer. The castle positively glowed before his eyes, every ounce of brick, stone, or glass saturated and thrumming with magical power.

In fact, he could see magic playing across every blade of grass, every wave in the lake surrounding him, every leaf in the distant dark forest, and even the very air around him. It was dull and quiet compared to the majesty of the castle, but even so, this place was teeming with arcane power.

Far off in the distance, all around the borders of the school, were black auras that felt almost like vacuums. He decided then and there that he was quite happy to have slept through them boarding the train. He'd much rather have an odd, incoherent nightmare than deal with those real world monsters, if he could choose.

His eyes hungrily took in every bit of magic they spied, until his boat was swallowed into the black maw of Hogwarts's underground cave-dock thingy.

Before long, all the freshmen were standing outside an enormous set of double-doors, waiting for their chaperone to arrive and explain just what they were supposed to do.

"So it's true then? They're saying Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts." All the talking died down, as if everybody wished to hear what the famous teen had to say.

The words seemed to be addressed to nobody in particular, but were definitely directed Harry's way. Or rather, they were projected outward to get everyone's attention, but Harry wasn't in the mood to deal with whatever issues came with being a celebrity. Somehow worse than the attention, however, was the fact that he _recognized_ that voice: it belonged to the annoying rich kid he'd had a brief encounter with at Madam Malkin's.

Harry started checking his fingernails, ignoring everything else around him.

That was, until a hand roughly grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him about to face the obnoxious speaker. The perpetrator of this action was a boy who seemed to be a direct descendant of King Kong. Definitely the brawn but not the brains.

"Can I help you?" his voice was a soft, velvety purr, but his eyes flashed at the larger boy.

"So it's true then?" began that same speaker again, as if he were reading off a script. Harry's eyes flicked to the blond boy, narrowing slightly. "They're saying Harry Potter-"

Harry just turned back around, facing the doors again.

"Hey!"

He barely managed to cover a yawn that escaped his mouth. "That nap sure wasn't restful," he muttered to himself, before promptly tuning everything behind him out. Again. Somehow.

The two boys never managed to do anything about the slight he threw their way, because the teacher showed up right on time.

"Attention Freshmen! I am Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, though you may call me Professor McGonagall if you are so inclined. You are all about to be Sorted into your Houses," she began, before explaining the House virtues and the points system. "After the Sorting Ceremony, and the ensuing feast, you will return to your House dormitories, wherein you will participate in Freshmen orientation. Is that clear?"

Everyone nodded their heads or muttered their assent.

"Now follow me," she commanded, before the great doors opened up behind her, seemingly of their own accord, and she lead them into the Great Hall. The freshmen were not an orderly line, but rather several clumps of people loosely arranged in a pseudo-line, as they followed the severe woman.

And thus, they came across the talking/singing hat sitting on an uncomfortable stool. It sang a very long, very boring song about absolutely nothing. Harry was beginning to regret coming to this place.

McGonagall called the first student up, instructed the girl to place the hat on her head, and wait for a verdict. When the hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!" the girl practically sprinted to her newly assigned table. Interestingly enough, the badge on her robes changed shape from an iridescent H for 'Hogwarts' into a yellow badge for 'Hufflepuff.'

Harry watched the color change, and realized it was a time delayed enchantment wherein the transformation was keyed to whatever phrase the hat shouted while within two feet of the badge. He also figured out that he'd need to see magic actively cast in front of his eyes before he could copy it.

"Interesting," he murmured, though his voice was so soft that he doubted anyone else would be able to hear it.

And much the same thing happened with several different sets of students: Susan Bones, the redhead with the inhuman aura, was a Hufflepuff. Hermione Granger, whose aura was cromprised of numbers, somehow, was a Gryffindor. Neville Longbottom joined her soon after in Gryffindor. Draco Malfoy, the spoiled rich kid, was a Slytherin... until suddenly, yet somehow also excruciatingly slowly, it was Harry's turn to phase the talking hat.

"Ah, I was right; this stool _is_ pretty shit," said Harry.

_"So I've been told,"_ came a snarky voice in his ear.

Harry blinked slowly at that. "R'You in my head?" He got a weird affirmative sense from the hat, before continuing, _"Not cool."_

_"Indeed. You need not worry about me spilling any of your secrets, young one. I am bound by the very fabrics of my being to protect the privacies of the young minds who I scan. I could no more share your secrets, like that of your Eyes, than I could juggle trolls."_

_"Ah, you know of my Eyes."_

_"I do. In fact, you aren't the first student to come through here with the potential to awaken that particular power, though yours are far more advanced than almost any other I have ever come across. Know this, young one, for if there is even one thing you take away from this conversation and remember for the rest of your life, this is by far the most important: your Eyes will enact a price on you; for every leap of power you gain, you stray further from the realms of Mankind. Do you understand?"_

_"... Eh, kind of. You're saying that my Eyes can get even more powerful than they already are, though the cost for such a power might be ultimately not worth paying."_

_"Exactly. It's good to see that you do have, somewhere deep beneath the perpetual purple haze that clouds your mind, some wittiness. Wielders of Grand Eyes are rarely so grounded, though you might be going a bit too far in the other direction. Now... that only leaves me to fulfill my purpose: where should I put you?"_

Harry made a mental note to research Grand Eyes at the earliest opportunity, but ignored that tangent for the time being in light of the question he was asked.

_"My only request is that I stay the Hell away from Slytherin,"_ said Harry, with some rather uncharitable thoughts about Malfoy being thrown out into the void of the hat.

_"... Understood... I can see your curiosity, loyalty, bravery, and cunning. You would make a fine Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, or Hufflepuff. However, you would not do well in Slytherin anyway, with your mind as muddled as it currently is. I can see that you don't have the same kind of drive or ambition that you once did. Perhaps it has something to do with the copious amounts of illicit drugs you recreationally use? No matter, you can regain that old edge easily enough, in time."_

_"Oh good, I won't go to Slytherin. But as for the other three, I think I'd prefer either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor... So where does that leave us?"_

_"You, Harry Potter, get the honor of choosing where you'll go. Remember, Ravenclaw is the House of the academics; your raw aptitude for learning notwithstanding, you still lack the necessary work ethic to do well in that house. Furthermore, that issue would be far worse in Hufflepuff."_

_"So that just leaves me with Gryffindor, then. Eh, that'll be fine with me, I think."_

_"I'm sure it will be. Then in that case..._ GRYFFINDOR!"


End file.
